“It was nearly midnight when they finally took David Groves out to the woods.” That’s the first sentence of the book I’m reading. You know if a book starts with such a sentence, it’s gonna be good. Direct, concise and right out of the gate, it’s plump with implications, possibilities and allusions to a “before” and a “something’s coming next.” It intrigues you, leaves you wondering, invites. That’s a great first sentence for a rainy Monday like today. A damp-wet-soggy-chilly-muddy-flames-in-the-fireplace-snuggle-in-a-blanket-fluffy-warm-socks Monday. It’s a fine first sentence for a gray rainy day that’s stuck smack between the last two gray rainy days and the next two. I know this slate-colored kind of day sounds dismal. Boring. Dull. On a day like this, it’s way too wet to rake the leaves. Can’t plant for the same reason. Biking? Same. It’s a day when hiking turns you into a whole lotta soggy. Can’t work from home today — Internet’s out, no worldwide web for me. Can’t do online school for the same reason. Netflix? Same. Can’t grab the girls and hang out due to COVID. Scratch the coffee shop crew ‘cause, well, ditto. Today’s equation: Covid+rain+cold+unreliable services=A fireplace+blanket+watching the grass grow sad sorta Monday.

UNLESS. “It was nearly midnight when they finally took David Groves out to the woods.” Ahhh, the crack of an opening book cover just pulled from its brethren, checked out and bound in thin rubber bands wound by gentle librarian hands. You bibliophiles are with me here — the joy that strikes the rabid reader’s heart when regarding a new book and a whole day pregnant with nothing. Full of time and empty of musts and coulds and crises. A day equipped with a new story and such a first line; shining and dangling, like a silver hook to my hungry fishy brain.

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